What Goes Up
by theatrical
Summary: Part two in my AHS series. Disgustingly awful at summaries, but trust me when I say it's going to be good! Sequel to Perchance to Dream.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The moving truck sat outside the same house as it had just months before, but the feeling in the air felt different. Instead of something new and exciting, the atmosphere felt dark. Emmaline and Violet stood in the front yard, holding onto each other tightly, both sobbing. Their mothers, who were standing behind their respective daughters, saw two friends saying an emotional goodbye to each other. However, what the girls saw, was a 'see you later.' The plan was already in motion—Emmaline's plane ticket to New Orleans was already paid for and hiding under her mattress, along with she and Violet's bus tickets to North Carolina. Emmaline planned to sneak out of her bedroom window at midnight, catch a ride to the airport where she'd spend the night, and catch the first flight into Louisiana the next morning.

"Violet…" Vivien spoke, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. Violet tried to shake her hand off. "Sweetheart, we have to go. We're going to miss our flight."

"Come on, Emmaline. Addy's waiting at home." Constance put her hand on Emmaline's arm and tried to pull her away. Emmaline knew they had to keep up the charade, and that their parents still didn't know about their relationship, but she couldn't help herself. Even though it'd only be a couple of days until she'd see Violet again, it felt like it was already going by slowly. She pressed her lips to Violet's, kissing her deeply while their mothers tried to separate them. They finally succeeded, Vivien dragging Violet, who was practically kicking and screaming, to their taxi. Constance stood there with her arms wrapped around Emmaline.

"No!" Violet cried as her mother got her into the back seat of the cab. She looked out the back windshield, kissed her fingers and put them on her heart. Emmaline did the same, and as the taxi drove off, she collapsed, crying, in her mother's arms.


	2. In the city of dreams

**Chapter One**

To keep the charade going, Emmaline laid on Constance's lap on the couch in the living room, letting tears fall. Her mother played with her hair—just as she had as a child—and stayed quiet for a while. When Constance took a deep breath, Emmaline knew the conversation she'd been avoiding was coming. She felt nerves bubble up in her stomach, and she sat up to face it. Constance gently wiped the tears away from her daughter's face, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Darling," Constance began, releasing her daughter from the embrace. "Can we talk about something?" She asked.

"Of course, mama. Anything." Emmaline put a hand on her mother's; she was starting to feel a little guilty for her plan to run away tonight, but she needed to be with Violet. The connection between the two of them was something she'd never had before; something Emmaline didn't even know existed. But at the same time, the bond with her mother was an inevitable one. Though the two of them didn't always see eye to eye, Constance always made sure Emmaline felt safe and loved, and now she felt like she was doing her a disgrace by abandoning her—something she knew Constance would never do if the roles were reversed.

"So, you and Violet…" Constance paused, raising an eyebrow. "How long has this been going on?"

Emmaline sighed, feeling tears burning her eyes. Not tears of sadness this time; it was tears of guilt. She'd never kept a secret from her mother before, and now she felt like all she was doing was keeping secrets. "A while," She admitted. She looked up to meet her mother's gaze, but Constance's expression was unreadable. "Are you mad at me, mama?"

"I could never be mad at you, darling." Constance wrapped her arms around Emmaline once more, pulling her close to her chest. "I just don't understand why you kept this from me."

Emmaline chuckled, using her free hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I just didn't know how you'd react, mama. You tend to be a little overprotective a lot of the time."

"You're my little girl, of course I can be protective. I was always worried about you getting with some asshole and getting pregnant. But you can't get pregnant if you're with a girl, now can you?" Emmaline pulled away from her mother, who was smirking. Emmaline couldn't help but to laugh. She hugged her mother again, pulling her close and breathing in her scent. 'I'm sure going to miss her,' she thought to herself.

oxoxoxoxo

Midnight came faster than Emmaline had been expecting. She'd already had her bags packed and hidden under her bed. She grabbed the tickets from under the mattress, and shoved them in her carry-on bag. She snuck down the hall to make sure her mother was sleeping—and sure enough—Constance was passed out with a bottle of scotch and a full ashtray next to her bed. Emmaline left the note she'd written for her mother under the bottle, and kissed her gently on the forehead before going back to her own room. She threw her bags out the window, and climbed into the trellis. She closed the window with one hand while she gripped into the wood with the other hand. She climbed down and grabbed her things, running next door. She opened the front door, which was left unlocked, and Tate was waiting for her in the foyer. She dropped her bags on the ground and grabbed her brother in a tight hug. "I'll miss you," Tate admitted, holding onto his little sister tightly.

"You still have the phone I gave you?" She asked him, and he nodded. Emmaline had gotten herself a new phone with a new number and had given Tate the old one. That way when Constance called, he'd answer and be able to make excuses as to where she was. "I love you," She told her brother, kissing his cheek before grabbing her bags again and running outside to meet the taxi driver who was waiting outside the house. The driver put her bags in the trunk, and she looked out the window at her brother, who was standing in the doorway waving at her.

The guilt Emmaline had felt earlier was fading fast. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins like a drug, and it was a high she never wanted to come down from. But the crash came faster than she'd been expecting, when the next day her plane landed in New Orleans and Violet wasn't at the airport waiting for her like she'd said she'd be.

Emmaline pulled her phone out of her bag, dialing Violet's number.

After a few rings, Violet answered. "Where are you?" Emmaline asked in a hushed voice. The airport was so full of people, and she had to be as discrete as she could.

"I'm still at home; mom caught me trying to sneak out and now she's freaking out and won't let me leave her sight." Violet's voice was also a whisper, and she was taking shaky breaths.

"What am I supposed to do, Violet?" Emmaline asked.

"Just… get to the bus station. It shouldn't be far from where you are. I'll be there soon. I love you," Violet hung the phone up before Emmaline could even respond. Emmaline sighed, grabbing her suitcase and walking out the front door of the airport. She took her phone out to call and update Tate as she walked. "Heard from mom?" She asked him.

"Of course, I have, Em. She's losing her shit. Cops been there all day. She even got that Billie Dean chick trying to ask the spirits where you are. Total crock of shit if you ask me," He responded.

"Hey!" Emmaline heard a voice from behind her.

"Who the fuck is that?" Tate asked.

"Hey, pretty girl! I'm talking to you!" The man yelled again. Emmaline tried to ignore him, but the faster she walked, the closer she could hear the footsteps catching up to her.

"Tate, someone's following me."

"Well, run!" He exclaimed. "Aren't there any people around to help you?"

"N-not really, I think I'm lost."

"Why the fuck didn't you get a cab to the bus station?" He sounded a mix of worried and pissed off.

"Because Violet said it wouldn't be far and I could walk, Tate."

Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder, turning her body and pushing her against the brick building. She felt the air leave her lungs, and she struggled to catch it. "I was talking to you back there; don't you know it's rude to ignore people?" Emmaline kept her mouth shut, though she had a few choice words she wanted to say. She knew the smart thing to do would be to walk away. She kept the handle of her suitcase tight in her hand, and turned to try to walk away. "Where do you think you're going?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. Everything happened in a flash. There was a switchblade in his hand, and it was held to her throat. She could feel the cold metal against her skin, and her heart started pounding faster than before. She wouldn't let her fear show, though inside, she was screaming. She could see her phone on the ground; she'd dropped it when he grabbed her. Tate's contact number was still pulled up, so he could hear everything. She had no idea how she managed to make her way down the one abandoned street in New Orleans, but as her luck would have it, she had. She closed her eyes tightly. She could feel his hand trying to unbutton her pants. All she could see in her mind was him dying. Walking into the street, and getting hit by a car. And she wished—like the day at the park—with all her might that it would happen. Suddenly, his grip on her was gone. There was a scream, and a crash. When Emmaline opened her eyes, the guy was laying in the middle of the street, a pool of blood forming around his head. She felt like her breath was caught in her throat. She slid down the wall, sitting down on the concrete and putting her head in her hands to trying to catch her breath.

"Well," she heard a voice that nearly made her jump out of her skin—but sounded hauntingly familiar. "That was impressive." An exhale and the smell of smoke filling the air.

Emmaline looked up at the person before her. "Mama?"

"Not exactly," A smile spread across Fiona Goode's face.


	3. lies the city ghost

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update. Not only did I have major writer's block, but I had completely lost my passion for writing for a while between school and work. But I'm back. Surprise, bitches. Chapter two of What Goes Up.**

Emmaline couldn't remember what happened after that. She had blacked out after coming face to face with who, she thought, was her mother. She felt herself being lifted off the ground, but after that, nothing. Her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at the white ceiling, completely bare aside from a gold chandelier. "Oh, good," an unfamiliar voice spoke. Emmaline jumped and quickly sat up—too quickly—making her head spin. A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and Emmaline looked over, meeting a kind face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." The woman placed a cold, wet towel on Emmaline's forehead and gently helped her lay down on the pillow behind her. "I know you probably have a lot of questions, but those can wait." She handed the younger girl a glass of ice water, which she accepted thankfully. She nearly downed the entire glass. The older woman smiled, taking the glass and placing it on the floor next to her. "Do you remember what happened?"

The memories suddenly started flooding back. Going to meet Violet, talking to Tate, the guy pushing her up against a wall. The car. The woman. Her…mother? Violet. _Shit._ She looked around for her bag and started to panic when she didn't find it. "My bag…where's my bag? I have to call my…friend. She's going to be worried about me."

"We've already called Violet, Emmaline. It's alright. You need to just relax. You've had a hell of a night." The woman smiled, taking the cold towel off Emmaline's forehead.

"Who are you?" Emmaline asked. She couldn't understand why a perfect stranger was being so kind to her.

"I'm Cordelia Foxx. Headmistress, here, at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies."

Emmaline furrowed her eyebrows in genuine confusion. "…what?"

"Let me ask you something," Cordelia stood from the spot where she was kneeling on the floor, and Emmaline sat up, so she could sit. She faced the older woman, anticipating what she was going to say. "Have you ever had anything happen to you that you couldn't understand? When you were upset, scared, angry?"

Emmaline's mind traveled to two different situations. That day in the park when she was a kid, and earlier tonight. She wanted and wished so hard for that asshole to get hit by a car. And it happened. "Yes," She answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"This may be hard for you to hear, Emmaline. But please believe me when I tell you this."

"After the past few months I've had, I have no doubt I'll believe you," She smirked in response.

"You're a witch, Emmaline." A different voice spoke up, and Emmaline turned her head. The woman (her mother…?) was standing in the doorway with a cigarette between her fingers. "And a damn good one, it seems." She took a drag and walked farther into the room, her heals clicking on the linoleum floor. She took a seat in the arm chair cattycorner to the couch where the other two were sitting.

"Mother, I was getting to that." Cordelia rolled her eyes, putting a hand on Emmaline's back. "Your bloodline—our bloodline—dates back to hundreds of thousands of years ago. Our descendants came from Salem."

"A witch?" Emmaline had no idea why, but she broke into a hysterical laughing fit. She was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath, and after a snort, she looked at the two women. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, we are." Fiona smirked and took another drag from her cigarette before putting it out on the ashtray on the marble table next to her. "As a heart attack."

Emmaline didn't think too much into it. It would make sense. If ghosts were real, why wouldn't witches be? She had always felt different, and now she was being told she was a witch. "Are you alright?" Cordelia asked, giving Emmaline a concerned look.

"Yeah," She answered monotonously. "I'm fine. But I have questions."

"I'd be worried if you didn't," Cordelia laughed half-heartedly, and Emmaline could feel the woman gently rubbing circles on her back. She smiled slightly; the woman was so motherly. Like her mama was, when she was having her good days.

"Who are you? And why do you look like my mother?" Emmaline turned her full attention to the older woman, who was lighting another cigarette.

She scoffed, taking a long drag and exhaling before answering. "I'm Fiona Good, Supreme of this little freakshow we have. And your mother—Constance—" Fiona leaned forward. "Is my twin sister."


	4. there's a beginning

**A/N: After a very long hiatus, I am back. Enjoy, & please read and review!**

Emmaline's heart felt like it was stuck in her throat. Tears burned the brims of her eyes, but the furiously fought them off, not wanting to show any sign of weakness in front of these total strangers. "My mother doesn't have siblings," Emmaline tried to make her voice sound strong, but it even sounded pathetic to her own ears.

Fiona scoffed, putting her cigarette in the ashtray on the marble table beside her. "It's no surprise she told you that; my sister was always a real bitch."

Emmaline was suddenly filled with rage—sure, her mother could have bitchy tendencies, but no one was allowed to say that about her. "Don't talk about her like that," Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her hands gripped the cushions of the couch so hard, she was surprised her fingernails didn't tear the fabric.

Fiona leaned forward, looking Emmaline directly in the eye. "Or what?" She taunted. The rage inside Emmaline grew from a lit match to a house fire. Every lightbulb in the room suddenly busted. A scream escaped Cordelia's mouth, breaking Emmaline from her trance.

"Impressive," Fiona raised an eyebrow, lighting another cigarette.

"Mother, why must you taunt her?" Cordelia scoffed, standing from her spot. "Spalding!" She called. "We need the lights changed down here. Again."

"I have to go," Emmaline stood from her spot and headed toward the door. "I have someone I'm supposed to meet."

"We already called your little girlfriend; don't worry about her." Fiona took a long drag from her cigarette, staring up at the high ceilings. "She's going to meet you here tomorrow to say goodbye."

"Excuse me?" Emmaline retorted. "What do you mean goodbye?"

"We—and by we, I mean Cordelia—called your mother. She'll be here in the morning." A large puff of smoke escaped Fiona's lips, and Emmaline wanted nothing more than to shove that cigarette down her throat.

Emmaline turned her rage to Cordelia. "You had no right," She started. Cordelia put her hands on Emmaline's shoulders soothingly, sitting her back down on the couch.

"We called her to let her know you were safe, and suggest you stay here to get help controlling your abilities, but she was quite insistent on you going home." Cordelia rubbed Emmaline's back, and out of habit she wanted to lay her head on the older woman's shoulder. She resisted—although Cordelia was apparently her cousin, she knew it would be weird.

"I'll make sure I'm long gone before she gets here," Fiona interjected. Emmaline turned toward the woman, suddenly filled with annoyance again. She now understood why Constance had never mentioned her sister.

"Are you always this negative?" Emmaline asked.

"Yep," Fiona exhaled another cloud of smoke, turning to Emmaline and smiling a wicked smile.


	5. there's a middle

Emmaline didn't sleep. How could she? Her entire plan had fallen apart within minutes, and now she was stuck in a house she wasn't familiar with. She tossed and turned in the bed—the old wooden bedframe creaked every time she moved, which was another factor involved in her lack of sleep. She had already exhausted all resources when it came to sneaking out of Miss Robichaux's. Apparently, Cordelia had put some sort of charm on all the doors, so Emmaline wouldn't run. Sighing loudly, she turned on her side and peaked out the window. It was a full moon, and just after midnight.

A thought occurred to her. If these people were saying she was a witch, couldn't she do magic to undo the charm or spell or whatever it was keeping it in this house? Biting her lip, Emmaline hopped out of the bed and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She walked quietly across the cold, wooden floor to the large bay window. Sliding the curtains open, Emmaline started feeling crazy. "If ghosts are real," she mumbled, "Why wouldn't witches be?"

Her mind went back to that day in the park. She wanted so desperately for that boy who stole her swing to fall off—and he did. Maybe that was the key to magic. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pictured it in her head—the window opening. Her body was suddenly filled with warmth, and she felt tingles from her head to her toes. She felt a cool breeze on her face, and her eyes opened slowly. This was it. The window was open. She had to hurry before someone heard her. She grabbed her bag off the floor and threw it down first. She shoved her phone in her pocket and kicked one foot out the window, making sure she had a steady step on the lattice. Once she was secure, she climbed down as quickly as she could. When her feet hit the damp grass, she grabbed her bag and ran. She glanced back, seeing a hall light turn on. She knew she needed to hurry, so she forced her feet to move as fast as they could. "Emmaline?" She heard Cordelia's voice call from behind her. She kept running—she knew she couldn't look back. Her next obstacle came in the form of a giant iron gate. She closed her eyes again, picturing the gate opening. Instead of feeling warmth, this time, Emmaline felt fire. She heard a large crash, and when she opened her eyes, the door to the gate was laying on the ground, half in the street.

"Holy shit," Emmaline whispered, but she had no time to linger over what she'd just done. She had to move. She ran out the gate and turned the corner, keeping a firm grip on her phone. As soon as she got a safe distance away from the school, she would call Violet and their original plan would be back in action. She looked back for a millisecond to make sure no one was following her, and before she knew it—she was running into something, or someone, that felt like a brick wall. She groaned when her tailbone hit the concrete, and looked up to see who it was she'd run into.

Cordelia towered over her, arms crossed and giving her a disapproving look. "Nice try," She smirked.

"What the _hell_ did you think you were doing, Emmaline?!" Constance paced across the living room of the academy, sucking down her fourth cigarette in a row and asking the same questions she'd been asking for the past hour since she arrived. "Do you have _any_ idea the hell you've put me through? I have been worried sick! Did you ever stop to think for even a second what you were doing to me? And to poor Addie? God, what has gotten into you?! You were such a sweet girl, then all of a sudden that Harmon girl comes around and you start acting like a degenerate!"

"Jesus Christ, Constance, give the girl a break." Fiona strolled into the room, her black heels clicking loudly on the linoleum floor.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what to do when it comes to my child, Fiona." Constance turned her rage from Emmaline to her twin sister, who didn't seem at all bothered by the other woman's hostility.

"You act like you were the perfect child?" Fiona rolled her eyes and sat down in the white arm chair, flicking her cigarette into the ash tray on the marble table next to her.

"Mind your business, Fiona. I'm here for one reason, and that is to get my child and go home. Let's go, Emmaline." Constance snatched Emmaline's bag off the floor and started marching toward the front door.

"Wait, mama!" Emmaline called behind her. Tears started burning the brims of her eyes. "Violet still hasn't gotten here. I didn't get to say goodbye."

"Too bad. We're leaving." Constance turned around, grabbing Emmaline's arm and pulling her off the couch.

"Mama, no!" Emmaline screamed, and that warm feeling overcame her again. She hadn't even wished or wanted for anything—it was more like a reflex. She opened her eyes, and her mother was on the floor, across the room with a stunned look on her face. Emmaline's eyes widened, and she ran over to Constance, kneeling down next to her. "Mama, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did I… hurt you?"

"I-I'm fine," Constance looked more shaken up than hurt.

"This is why I suggested she stay," Cordelia's voice came out of nowhere, and Emmaline looked away from her mother to meet the headmistresses eyes. "Her powers are strong—very strong—but they're also uncontrollable."

Constance stood from the floor, using her hands to dust off her dress. "My daughter is not staying in a house with _her,"_ she nodded her head toward Fiona.

"She's hardly here," Cordelia interjected. "The only reason she's here now is because she found Emmaline." Cordelia led the two of them back to the couch. Emmaline sat down next to her mother, and Cordelia stood before them. "Aunt Constance," Cordelia furrowed her eyebrows. "I would never let anything happen to Emmaline. I can promise you that."

"Can I have a minute alone with my child, please?" Constance refused to meet Cordelia's eye. She nodded, and Cordelia practically forced Fiona out of the arm chair and descended into the other room. "You're not staying here, Emmaline. I don't care what Cordelia says."

"Mama," Emmaline started to interject, but Constance held her finger up.

"Emmaline, the last few days have been absolute hell. I…" Constance sighed, and Emmaline could see tears in her mother's eyes. "You… you can't live all the way across the country. You can't be that far away from me." The first tear fell, and Emmaline felt her heart break.

"Mama…" Tears started falling from her own eyes. "I'm sorry, mama. But… you saw what happened earlier. I need Cordelia to teach me, or who knows what will happen?" She paused, looking down at her hands. "Why can't you and Addie just come here too?"

"I can't leave your brothers, Emmaline. And Rose…" Constance paused, thinking about her daughter who she rarely ever talked about. Emmaline furrowed her eyebrows when she saw the pain overcome her mother's eyes. "They need me."

"Then let me stay, mama. I can fly home on the weekends…"

"We can't afford that, Emmaline."

"I'll get a job. And I can call you every single day. Please, mama. I just know this is where I'm supposed to be." Emmaline put a hand on her mother's hands, and Constance broke down.

"Okay," Constance spoke after a few minutes of sobs. "Fine. But," She turned to face Emmaline, putting her hands on both sides of her daughter's face and giving her a stern look. "Do not believe anything that bitch says," Constance said, referring to her sister. "She will do everything in her power to turn you against me."

"I would never turn on you, mama." Emmaline promised, and Constance pulled her into a warm, firm embrace. "I love you."

"I love you too, my sweet girl. More than you'll ever know."


End file.
